


Restless Hands, Errant Mind

by acatone



Series: True Overseers [1]
Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 13:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6857140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acatone/pseuds/acatone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story of my Overseer OC, Seamus Bishop</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restless Hands, Errant Mind

All Seamus knew was the Abbey and nothing else. All he knew were the seven strictures nothing more. All his life, he has spent within the great walls of the Abbey and there is nothing else to it, nothing left for him. That was all. The Overseers took him when he was small, smaller than the rest. He grew up with the abbey, the strictures, and the propagating views that came with it. He was given a book, he learnt it. He was given a mission, he does it, no matter what his heart says. After all, one must not bite the hands that fed them.Everything he knew had came from the Abbey. And so, everything he knew about the Outsider was that he is nothing more than a source of heresy and trouble and that all contacts with him must be avoided at all costs. He also knew that the heretics were a scary weird bunch that the world needed to get rid of and that’s what we do.

He had once dreamed of being the High Overseer, a model to society and of course, he tried hard to keep himself away from heresy. He followed the seven strictures and chanted them like a mantra whenever he walks. But that dream was robbed from his when he failed a vital mission. When he let his emotions win over his logic.

It should not be a difficult thing to do, but he was tired and he was upset. They had just lost three members to Dead Eels on an unfortunate ambush and still, they haven’t completed their mission: burn a witch’s house, with her inside. He should’ve known better, that in his state, he is completely vulnerable. Whether it was against a witch, a gang member or worse, his own emotions. It should not have been a difficult thing, lighting a fire and watching the whole place crumble. The hardest part was when you cannot restrain your errant mind, as you listen to the witch’s screams, as she begs for your death, or for mercy. They granted neither, ideally. Because that was what a perfect overseer does. He keeps his emotions out of everything. That is what he tries to do. Restrict the errant mind. Restrict the restless hands. His hands twitched a little, before a thought crossed his mind. They said that they have not found evidence of her heresy. They never found the singing bones, nor have they seen her doing any witchcraft. What if she was innocent? What if she was a normal women? What if…  What if…

“Please, Let me out!” her shrill voice called out to him.

“Please, I swear! I’m not a witch!”

“Please-”

A gunshot at the door’s handle, a scream, and hands pulling her away from the burning building. None of his brothers stopped him. _Why aren’t they stopping me? They- They must’ve known this was fake_ , he angrily thought as he pulled the frightened lady from the ruins of her house. She cried to him, thanking him profusely. He held her, comforting her before leaving her go when the tides have calmed.

“Leave, don’t come back here,” he said to her, gently, kneeling in front of her. He knew, the Abbey won’t let her go so easily, even if their claims are not true. She promised to leave, slipping something in his hands before fleeing. He does not hear the song it sings, he just looked at it, his mistake flooding him with guilt. He had saved a heretic. They were right all along. When he turned around, he finds that his brothers are right before him. He was powerless, all his energy drained from his body. There was nothing he could do. He let them take him and there was nothing more to that dream. The dream of being the High Overseer.

He found himself bound to a chair. His hands and feet restrained. He sees the high overseer before him, chanting his mistakes like a mantra. In his head, the scene replayed over and over, the moment when he saved her and when he handed her the cursed thing.

“Overseer Bishop, you have been found guilty of aiding a heretic and for being found in the possession of heretical accouterments”

The words made him weak. He could only feel defeat. There was no fight left in him, he simply accepted his failure, as an Overseer would. He had failed to restrain his restless hands and failed to restrict his erroneous mind. It was his fault for having a weak mind. It was his own fault. He should never have doubted, he should have trusted the Abbey. They were right, they were right all along. The heat and the acid burned his skin. He tried to resist himself from screaming because after all, he deserved this. His hands clutched the armrest tightly, making his knuckles pale. It was over as quickly as it had started and his body relaxed. He was now a heretic.

The Overseers avoided him like a plague. They gave him a wide berth wherever he moves and even though it hurt Seamus, he kept his head up for he knew that among these people, he was the only one true overseer among the heretics and yet, he is the one that has been branded a heretic. Funny how things worked out, the thought. Still, he had promised himself from that day on, that he would not let his emotions get in the way. He will not let his conscience stop him or make it do things for him. He stopped responding and the jeers and at the pain of having no one around him. He struggled in his day to day mission because no one is allowed to help him.I gets even more difficult with his injury. He tried his best to dress in the injury the best he can but resources are scarce and it is hard to get medical supplies, especially when you are branded a heretic. He simply bandaged it and doused it in whatever alcohol he could find to prevent him from getting infected whether it was the plague or not. He didn’t really like the idea of dying even though he’d die for the Abbey anyway. Still, he caught himself feverish and weak and he knew that this was bad. He can’t get himself excused and he can’t skip work so there was no way to avoid this. Perhaps it’s better to die, it is more convenient he thinks, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to. He’s barely 18.

They threw him out just days after the incident, but he found himself back into the Abbey and never took his mask. Not in front of anyone.

He did his routine patrol on Holger’s Square. He was barely able to stand on his own but no one helped him, of course. He tried his best to walk, one feet after another, like a drunkard trying to walk down the street. Even walking felt like a chore for him. He was sick, he knew. He needed a rest. He simply wishes that it was not the plague. They stopped providing him the elixirs after all. Things were difficult for Seamus but he need not their sympathy or their pitying looks. He must stay strong. He’ll prove them wrong.

Seamus was awoken by a kick on his gut and a voice telling him to get up. He got up, clutching his side. It seems that he has fainted from his illness in the middle of patrol. In front of him an overseer. He is short in stature and has a stocky build. His voice sounded fierce and probably a little angry. Seamus was slightly intimidated. The overseer mask made it look even more horrifying. He probably shouldn’t get on his bad side. Seamus promptly apologizes before getting back on his feet.

“There’s a report of a heretic 3 blocks away, why don’t you go and catch up,” he said, pointing to the direction of the location.

It really sounded more like an order than a question and so without hesitation, he went out to catch up. Seamus still felt dizzy and tired and his vision blurry. He could make out the burning building but upon a closer look, he saw its horrors. It was a witch, a real witch. Green skin with flowers blooming across her body. The overseers were clearly overwhelmed. They sure had expected a bone-charm owning heretic of some sort but is instead faced with an actual witch. _This is a chance to redeem yourself,_ he thought. With a blade in hand, he quietly circled around the building. He sneaked inside from one of the broken windows of the house and clearly saw a shrine inside, built for the outsider. He felt sick to his stomach. The fact that the reaches of the outsider lie so close to the Abbey horrified him. Worse, he was one with an erroneous mind. No, no, He has to get back on track. He walked past the shrine and crept towards the broken down door. There he sees the witch, fighting off several of his brothers. They clearly were losing and Seamus could not bear to see a witch, a cursed being, murdering his brothers. His hands were restless and no longer could he wait. He lunged towards the witch, sword in his hands.

“Let my hands not be restless!”

The witch did not have time to look behind her before Overseer Bishop stabbed her in the heart.

It was a victory for the Abbey, a victory for Seamus Bishop


End file.
